Monday, September 28, 2009

Sometimes, when you don't do something for a while (or a really long time), you have a hard time doing it again. An example: the last pan of the meal, that doesn't fit in the dishwasher, that soaks in the sink for 2 days. On that note: it took me 45 minutes of stalling (even checking the sports section of the yahoo homepage) before I decided it was time to open up blog-ography.blogspot.com. When I opened her, she said, "Welcome." She didn't even make me feel guilty.

Happy Sabbath.

September’s Fast Sundays:

Today was Fast Sunday. The Sunday where we don't eat for two meals, and we do it with a purpose. Sometimes the purpose of the fast is kept private, but sometimes it isn’t. Ray and I decided to fast for our relationship; more specifically for good communication skills, intuition on how to "take good care" of each other, and patience until we've perfected both. We fasted not because our relationship is in trouble and not because it's safe, but because it's often bouncing around in the middle... and sometimes the middle likes a fast held in its honor.

It was a wonderful day. Ray was exceptionally witty and funny. I was an exceptionally good cook. I made quiche and fruit filled crepes. Ray spoke with a French accent and with a straight face, perfected his phrase, "Oui, oui my li-tell flow-air."* Best of all, I felt undeniably assured that we will have a wonderful life together and that we will be uncommonly happy. These feelings were especially appreciated because last week I cried long enough and hard enough I became thirsty. Ray and I were both astonished and perplexed by the whole ordeal.

Today I felt complete and as if the first Blessing of the Fast was being awarded… for this day, our life was perfectly on plumb.

There was another Fast Sunday in September; the one at the beginning of the month. This first Fast Sunday was equally gratifying. The Saturday night prior, Ray asked me what I thought we should fast for. I was stumped. I couldn't think of a single thing I needed help with, comforted on, or an answer to. As I sat there marveling at how blessed I felt, he quietly suggested, "What do you think about fasting for gratitude?" I thought he was brilliant.

All day long I felt the overwhelming gratitude for what my life was rich in. The top 3 being:

The blessings of the gospel; a gospel fully restored with prophets, revelation, a plan of happiness, the Comforter, eternal marriage, and an actively working atonement.

An appreciation for this tabernacle of clay. Sometimes I get so mad at this body. It falls apart when I need it the most. It gains weight when I told it not to. It cries when it’s awkward and doesn’t cry when it’s appropriate. It forgets people’s names, which is my right and left hand, secular information I specifically told it to remember, and how to crochet (AGAIN). However, for one select day, I thought this body was splendid just the way it was.

A good meal of chili and cornbread when starvation was no longer required.

And with that, I’ll close the way I opened. Happy Sabbath.

*In case you can't tell, those words are French accent-itized "little" and "flower." He called me his little flower. That alone assured that our day would be full of laughing. How can you not laugh when someone who is 6’6” and has a recently shaved skin-head is calling you a little flower? You can’t.